


Apex Legends: Sixth Sense

by Vanillogical



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Related, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24005461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanillogical/pseuds/Vanillogical
Summary: When Caustic is lost in the Void, Wraith and Bloodhound commit to helping him, and in doing so are locked down a tragic road that intertwines with Wraith's own past.(darksparks is present, but not the focus)Inspired by this incredible art: https://www.reddit.com/r/apexlegends/comments/djet2n/unlocking_sixth_sense_my_artwork/.Has now inspired this incredible art: https://twitter.com/meemiyeeni/status/1281714456188334082 (major spoilers for this one; more context and words in a note at the end of the last chapter).
Relationships: Bloodhound & Caustic | Alexander Nox, Bloodhound & Wraith | Renee Blasey, Wattson | Natalie Paquette/Wraith | Renee Blasey, Wraith | Renee Blasey & Caustic | Alexander Nox
Comments: 10
Kudos: 72





	1. Bird's Eye View

The sun bore down on Kings Canyon with as much blinding verve and dense heat as it always did, insects buzzing along grassy knolls, nest-like structures standing monolithic as the rock walls across the island, and a Longbow rifle held perfectly still amongst vibrant foliage.

Bloodhound was perched on a small outcropping, sheer brown stone an arms' length away to their left, and the impassive hum of the Ring closing in behind.

“ _Round Four. Beginning countdown._ ”

They didn't prefer being so close to the Ring; it hindered mobility options, and that infernal droning was just enough to mask the sounds of any approaching opponents.

But honor was not in an easy, preferable hunt, and as they peered through the rifle's sights, head angled to align the lens of their helmet with the scope, they were satisfied with their vantage point. It gave them a perfect view as the sluggish summer quiet shattered.

A dark figure sprinted out from behind one of the nest structures, instantly in Bloodhound's crosshairs, but the hunter stayed their trigger finger. The figure's right hand was stretched out, her expression strained, as though she were pulling a tremendous weight along. A blue glow trailed behind her, echoing her fluttering scarf, until she slid to a halt and let a portal form.

As soon as it burst into being, a heavy-bodied competitor in yellow tumbled through, turned, and trained a Peacekeeper shotgun on the portal. Dirt and blood was spattered over Caustic's gear, and Wraith was in no better condition. After a moment, the doctor struggled to his feet, and the two seemed to converse, making no attempt to further flee.

From the way Wraith had come, a noise like a hydraulic press resounded, followed by light, almost manic laughter as a thin Legend in green soared above the plains, turning head over heel while firing a pair of automatic pistols wildly.

Bloodhound saw Caustic turn and stagger back towards the portal; they saw Octane land in a dirt-gouging slide and throw a pair of electric Arc Stars at the retreating foe; they saw the Arc Stars land, but they didn't see anymore, instead whirling around to face whoever it was whose footsteps Bloodhound only then heard.

Several rapid gunshots seared past them, just missing. They dove to the side and came up with their rifle ready, but the enemy just kicked its barrel away and brought her fist down.

Bloodhound rolled and drew their axe, bringing Raven's Bite up to meet their foe's neck–

–as Bangalore's pistol pressed against their temple.

“How's it goin', Blód?” she smirked, dark eyes gleaming.

“My squadmates have been slain and I am being held at gunpoint. I have seen better hunts, Anita.” The edge of Raven's Bite glowed with a red energy, painting Bangalore's firm jawline a burgundy tone. “But, to have been so thoroughly ambushed is a rare experience.”

Bangalore chuckled as the pair began circling each other, neither moving their weapons an inch. “You got a helluva pride, hunter.”

“It was a compliment. You did well to surprise me.”

“Oh, I can do a lot more.”

“Can you?” Bloodhound matched the taller Legend's grin from within their helmet. “Please, demonstrate.”


	2. Non Terrae Plus Ultra

Wraith slid to a halt and pushed her void energy into form, cold light cutting into the summer day as a portal burst forth.

She was in a bad way, beaten and sore, low on ammo and with no body shield, and summoning that portal to get herself and Caustic to relative safety had drained nearly all the strength she had left.

At that moment, a flashing sound drew her attention back around, and she watched Caustic emerge. He all but collapsed, but he had a fierce look in his eyes that didn't dwindle even slightly. While he aimed his shotgun at the portal, daring any opponents to follow through it, Wraith caught her breath and braced herself.

They'd gotten stuck in the crossfire of two other squads, a mess of a fight that drove the two of them off with their tails between their legs after taking their teammate.

Wraith hoped the Respawn Chambers could save the guy; he'd been a good partner. A sense from outside herself gave her the impression he was well and truly gone, though.

 _Get ready_ , echoed a voice like hers in the back of her head, _they're coming_.

She reloaded her Wingman pistol and patted Caustic's shoulder to get his attention. It took a second before he turned his burning gaze up to her, then visibly calmed and stood, ignoring the hand she offered.

Wraith shook her head. That man was difficult enough at the best of times, but now and then his cold, precise apathy exploded into something nearly anyone would find terrifying to witness.

For her, though, it was only unsettling. She'd seen worse, and as long as he was on her side, Caustic could be as callous or as monstrous as he wanted.

“Which squad you think is gonna come over that hill?” she asked. They would have kept running, but there was only impassable rock walls and the edge of the Ring to meet them. This was a last stand.

“Hmm.” Caustic seemed to mull it over while examining his Peacekeeper, his gas mask and beard hiding any emotion present. “One of the assailing squads included Wattson, correct?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“I believe hers will be the victorious group. Focus and precision are valuable traits, and ones which that girl possesses in far greater quality than most.”

A smile tugged at Wraith's mouth. “Well, I'm with you there. I think I'd be alright with losing to Nat.”

Caustic looked down and regarded her coolly. “Yes, I concur.”

They turned at once as, from over the hill, the clamorous sound of a spring reached them, and a cackling daredevil flew through the sky. A spark of irritation flittered through Wraith as she noticed a small purple charm on one of his pistols; it was her gun, that she had dropped while escaping.

“Disappointing,” Caustic sighed. “It appears Ms. Paquette was defeated.”

Wraith had to push concern for Wattson out of her head. It wasn't too hard, as a reverberating chorus bombarded her at that moment.

_Sniper, watching you!_

_There's more than you see._

_Move!_

Caustic moved, retreating back to the portal, but Wraith faltered, gripping her temple, needing another moment to overcome the sudden overload.

By the time she had recollected herself, she saw Octane toss aside one of his RE-45s, land in a skid that dug his metal legs into the earth, and fling two glittering shurikens at Caustic.

“Look out!” she cried, but she was too late. One of the Arc Stars struck a gas canister on Caustic's back, sending green fumes spewing out of an electrically-charged hole.

The other Arc Star scored across Caustic's eyes, ripping a deep, hoarse scream from him that cut off as he fell into the portal.

Octane winced at what he'd done, but this was the Apex Games. Wraith knew he didn't feel too much remorse. She steadied herself, stared him down, and lunged forward, pistol ready–

_Another, behind you!_

The bullet hit her before she could even process the words.


	3. One Less to Consider

“ _Welcome back, Legend._ ”

Wraith's eyes shot open, her chest heaving even though she was breathing fine. The Respawn Chamber opened, and she stumbled out, massaging her neck.

Even if she hadn't been shot in the back of the head, she'd still have been a bit disoriented. Blacking out in the vibrant heat of Kings Canyon and waking up in a cool, sterile room aboard the Dropship was always something of a trip.

Anita was stepping out of another Chamber, across from Wraith, and threw a nod her way. The chamber beside hers opened, and Blódhundr emerged; when they were freshly Respawned was one of the only times Wraith ever saw them off-balance.

Even then, she'd still never seen the warrior without their helmet and respirator; the medical nanotech Respawn Chambers used could bypass inorganic material, or even repair minimal damage to it. So, whenever Apex participants were incapacitated in the arena, they could be teleported straight into a Chamber, no delays.

Blódhundr adjusted their mask as they stepped out. Everyone had figured by then that Blód needed it. But when Elliott had said how he felt sorry the Respawn Chambers couldn't repair chronic damage or illness, Blód had just shaken their head and replied, “This struggle within my body is woven into all that I am. I would not trade it for anything.”

In the present, they raised a hand in greeting to Wraith, then turned to Anita. She reached out to them, and they clasped her hand tight, each flexing for a moment as they locked eyes.

Wraith crossed her arms and smiled. She could only imagine what kind of fight they'd had if _both_ had ended up dead. Her smile faded, though, as the thought reminded her that she _and_ Caustic had been taken out.

But as she looked around, there were no other active Respawn Chambers.

“He... couldn't be recovered?”

Wraith was leaning against the wall of the Dropship lounge, her brow furrowed at the Apex official who'd come to check on them post-match.

“Correct,” the suit said. “You were eliminated while he was still in the portal, and the portal closed upon your death. We attempted to teleport his body back here, of course, but we can't even detect his translocation kit, let alone connect with it.”

The room was silent. No one had particularly liked Caustic, but none of them had wished for _this_. Even Elliott, who always deflected pain with sarcasm and had consistently clashed with the man, said nothing.

The worst, though, was Natalie's face. She, of all the Legends, had resonated with Caustic the most. Not his demeanor, perhaps, but in the sense that they were both scientists; Wraith had seen them talking at length before matches, or working together on some manner of experiments while the Dropship made its way back to Solace City.

She'd been perhaps the one Legend who didn't suffer the full brunt of Caustic's condescending derision, and while that may not have been much, she had clearly grown fond of him in turn. Social connections didn't seem to be the easiest thing for Natalie, but they clearly weren't something she was averse to, and as compassionate and friendly as she was, it was hard not to be endeared to her.

At the same time, Wraith had worried that Nat's openness would hurt her eventually; and here she was, watching Natalie sit stiffly and hold back tears. The sight clawed at her heart.

But, right then, another sensation pulled at her mind, in a way that she was familiar with, but not quite as she was used to it.

 _Lost in the Void..._ she thought. Her eyes hardened as she conceived a plan.

That night, she gazed out over the gentle Solace seas from a Goblin dropship, the same kind used for Respawning mid-match. Ajay and Blódhundr stood across from her, the medic fidgeting slightly and the hunter keeping stock still.

Once the matter was explained, it had been easy to convince Blód to come with her; Ajay had taken more persuading.

“I've committed my life to helpin' people in need,” she had said. “And yes, the bad doctor's definitely in need right now, assuming he's alive, but he's also someone who spends his time slowly, painfully wringin' the life outta people. You want someone like me to help save someone like him?”

“I don't like him either,” Wraith had countered, “but not even he deserves to be trapped in the... place that he's in.” She'd never told the other Legends the details of the Void, but save for the voices in her mind, she was pretty sure they'd guessed as much as there was to know. The portals and phasing weren't exactly a subtle ability.

Even not having much to go on, and even with the risk of being caught in the arena outside a match, Ajay had not only come along in the end, but helped procure a ship for them, flown by a pilot she promised knew the meaning of the word discretion.

“Now, don't think I'm not thrilled to be doin' this,” Ajay said, pulling Wraith's attention back from the window, “but how are we gonna explain things to the folks in suits if we do come back with him?”

“Your concern is valid,” Blódhundr replied, “but I would not worry. Caustic contributes greatly to their ratings.”

“Blód's right. Higher-ups might see through us, but the producers won't care. And as long as they can't prove we broke the rules, they're not gonna do anything.” Wraith leaned back against the wall. “Three Legends? Bloodhound and Lifeline among them? We'll be fine.”

Ajay huffed. “If you're so sure, then alright.”

The pilot called back to let them know they'd arrived. The ship couldn't touch down on the actual island without being detected, and the trio needed a way back on the ship, ideally with Caustic in tow, so only Wraith stepped up to the bay doors as they opened.

She looked over her shoulder. Blódhundr gave a small salute, and Ajay winked.

“Here goes nothing,” Wraith muttered, then channeled the Void and jumped.

Her Jump Kit would've kicked in immediately, guiding her down safely, if she'd had it active. But the trail left by a normal skydive would've been too visible, and it was a hard rule that no one was allowed in the arena outside of matches. They might've been able to flex the privileges of being a Legend, if need be, but better not to get caught at all.

So instead, she dropped straight down, free and faster than she'd ever done before, pulsing blue and violet lightning crackling around her and trickling in her wake.

The thrill was so overwhelming that she nearly forgot to phase, but a second after leaving the drop ship, Wraith did remember; she clenched her fist and slipped out of reality.

She was still falling, but all that anyone would see of her if they were watching was a faint trail of dark blue, ethereal and waif-like, and utterly belying the strain she was under.

The distance she was dragging this portal, and holding this phase, was taking a deep toll. Solace was rendered in shifting, warping blues and whites, the world blending together one moment and sharpening into cold chiaroscuro the next, with the natural contrasts of nearly all she could see inverted. Normally, she saw silhouettes, echoes of other Wraiths flitting in and out of sight as they, too, used the Void.

For once, though, she was alone in the strange dimension. No other Wraiths were about to slam into the ground after falling a hundred feet from the sky.

 _Bet you voices didn't see that coming, huh_ , Wraith thought wryly.

At the last moment, she unphased, and tapped a device on her wrist. The Jump Kit activated, helping her flip right-side up and land cleanly, on her feet and with a fraction of the momentum she should've had after falling that far, though her knees still buckled.

With a heavy gasp, she flung out her hand, and the energy rippling around it burst into a portal. Blód and Ajay appeared a second later.

They were in the nesting grounds, where Caustic had been lost. Blódhundr kept an eye out while Ajay got her medical drone ready and Wraith took a moment to catch her breath.

“I gotta say, that was pretty badass” Ajay whispered as D.O.C. charged up.

“Indeed,” said Blód, “it was most impressive.”

“Thanks. Won't have been for anything if we can't find Caustic, though.”

“Hey, have a bit more faith.” Ajay smiled. “Where could he have gone?”

 _Literally anywhere_ , Wraith thought, hoping she was wrong. But she only nodded to Blód, took their hand, and phased again.


	4. Voidhunters

The world held few mysteries yet for Blódhundr Johannsbur.

What beasts lurked in the shadows of the wild was known to them, as were those that lurked in the shadows of civilization. The euphoria of reveling in love, as well as the hollowness of having that which one loves taken, was known to them.

Even the spirit of the past, long dismissed by so many in this world of starscapes and steel and cheated death, was known to Blódhundr; they knew it to be closer to all than most realized, a force that had never left humanity, no matter how far they traveled. The Allfather was master of both _ófriðr_ and _seið_ – war and magic, and as it was once understood, the masculine and the feminine. Blódhundr held no doubt that within the Allfather was also balanced the carved and smoky old with the gleaming and expansive new.

And so there was little difficulty for them in adjusting to the strange, cold space they had entered. Little, but not none.

They had been on Wraith's squad before, and had glimpsed it whenever using her portals, passing through for a second at a time, but to be firmly within it was different. Gone were the subtle environmental cues they could so keenly hone in on, the colors and shadows all warped out of recognition, flipped into an utterly alien rendition of Kings Canyon.

Even the air, normally something strewn with signs Blódhundr could read even through their mask, was unearthly; a chill, breathable stasis woven of countless disparate atmospheres.

It was also, however, different in that it felt _easier_ to breath. Years of living with chronic respiratory damage had forced Blódhundr to grow accustomed to perpetual raggedness with each inhale, a roughness in their throat, a breathless strain in their chest that flared up on occasion.

Here, though, the air was crisp, soothing. They were almost tempted to remove their mask and fill their worn lungs directly.

But when Wraith tugged their arm and motioned forward, they refocused on just acclimating to the dimension, and strained to make out any kind of tracks. They stood in the nesting grounds, or the space equivalent to the nesting grounds, but even adapting to the realm's foreign nature, Blódhundr couldn't discern anything. Where Caustic had fallen through into this dimension, there was nothing but the same listless white motes that floated all around.

A shiver ran through Blódhundr. They looked to Wraith, and saw that she was grimacing. The chunky device on her left forearm shook, its nodes bright and crackling with energy.

They were running out of time.

Blódhundr stepped closer to where Caustic had been. Their steps were unhindered, but at every moment their entire body trembled. It was as though their movement was only free because this realm was rattling every cell in them, and they were on the verge of vibrating out of solidity.

But they pushed further, and at the spot they had seen Caustic perish, there was another sense, something that echoed deeper within them. For a second, Blódhundr was struck by a wave of desolation, bitterness, pain–

“Aaargh,” Wraith growled, and released her fist, staggering as the pair flashed back into physical reality. “Sorry,” she panted, “couldn't keep it going any longer.”

“It is fine.” Blódhundr appreciated being back in the firm, familiar world.

“No luck?” asked Ajay.

Wraith shook her head. “I don't know. I didn't see anything. What about you, Blód?”

The hunter stared at the spot Caustic had fallen, stroking their respirator. They hadn't seen anything, but they had come close, they knew it. They contemplated enhancing their sense using the ability dubbed within the Games as “Beast of the Hunt.” An injection of chemical nanotech, and they would see what they needed to more clearly and move more freely, their focus and ferocity magnified. It could, perhaps, give them the edge needed to find their way in that realm.

But no. Though such a tool may have been, in its own way, a manifestation of the Allfather's blessing, it was still only technology. This called for something older, more primal.

“Take me back in,” Blódhundr said. “Our comrade is there, but he is... deeper.”

Wraith shared a confused look with Ajay. “What do you mean?”

“Once we are in, push beyond just... that space.”

“The Void,” Wraith supplied.

“Yes, the Void. You phase only into the most adjacent layer of it ordinarily. Caustic has fallen deeper, and so you also must dive deeper.” Blódhundr gave a comforting smile, which they tried to infuse into their voice, since it couldn't be seen. “Worry not, I will help guide your path.”

Wraith seemed hesitant, but only for second, before she stepped close and gripped Blódhundr's hand again.

“I'm not sure what all is going on when you blip out like that,” said Ajay, “but you two be careful. Best not to test how good I am by makin' me save all of ya.”

Wraith met Ajay's smile with a nod, then phased once more.

This time, Blódhundr reached towards the sensation they'd felt, and indicated for Wraith to do the same. She stretched her left hand out, the Void wavering around it.

Blódhundr concentrated and searched. This place was less a domain of physical senses than of spirit, and it was with that it mind that they felt the echo of Caustic again.

They clasped onto the feeling, and channeled it as best they could into Wraith, leading her to the impression, helping her connect to it. They knew she'd managed it when she stopped looking at anything in particular, her glowing blue eyes focusing on something further.

Her brow creased, the shaking of her arm-device intensified, and she reached her hand out more, the space around now pulsating and unraveling as the pair slipped deeper into the Void.

Immediately, the air changed. It was even colder, but also thicker, rougher, and bore a tinge of green. In every direction, the color of the Void was more vivid, darker and with more violet.

And there, clear against the pale ground, surrounded by faint green mist, lay Caustic.

Blódhundr and Wraith rushed forward and knelt beside him. The canister on his back had been blown open, and his suit bore damage radiating out from it. His entire body trembled, though he seemed to be unconscious, and under his shattered goggles, his eyes were dark, the area around them torn and burnt and... cracked.

As Blódhundr examined him, a faint crackling of electricity ran just under his skin, blue and green lighting him up just slightly from within.

Wraith's device shook more fervently, and so the two grabbed hold of Caustic's shoulders, and Wraith pulled them all back into the normal world.

Ajay only raised her eyebrows at their return, then got right to work, plugging D.O.C. into Caustic to flood his body with healing nanotech, examining him, and applying what traditional first aid she could. She moved fast, with precision, and though she was long-proven to be a formidable adversary, Blódhundr was reminded that her element was truly medicine.

After a few minutes, Ajay sat back and let out a heavy breath. “Okay, so. He's not doin' _well_ , but he's stabilized, and honestly, I expected him to be a lot worse.” She started packing D.O.C. back up. “We still shouldn't hang about, though. We gotta get him into a Respawn Chamber, stat.”

Blódhundr and Wraith nodded, and prepared to pick Caustic up to carry him back through the portal and into the Goblin. Just before they heaved him up, though, the man stirred. His breath grew more ragged, but he didn't say anything, or move much, except to reach out and instantly grasp Wraith's shoulder.


	5. The Hungry Wolf

The sun bore down on the simulation of Kings Canyon with as much blinding verve as it did in reality, but Alexander Nox couldn't see it.

He only knew he had stepped out from the dark entrance corridor and into the main area of the firing range by the difference in the ground: cold metal giving way to warm, loose sand.

Part of him had wondered if entering a Sim Pod would allow him to see, if only in an artificial space, but he had no such luck. He was ill-versed with such devices, though, so he couldn't be certain if he was supposed to or not; if his condition was truly as unique as it seemed.

“Inexplicably irreparable,” the physicians had said of his eyes. While the process would have been a lengthy one, the damage he had suffered should have been treatable, and with a not-insignificant amount of both medical nanotech and rehabilitation, Nox should have been able to restore his sight.

But something about the way it had been lost, or something about the... Void, as Wraith had called it, prohibited the healing, leaving him with a mess of scars across his face, in place of his vision. It was unclear if even prosthetics could be implanted.

Nox began to make his way, slowly, down the sandy stone slope, towards the gun racks and DUMMIEs.

It wasn't an insurmountable handicap. Countless scientists had thrived even with dramatically more impactful disabilities than his own. His mind was intact, as were all his motor functions, even if those had taken almost two weeks to return. He could still contemplate, still record his notes and theorems and the results of what experiments he could still carry out; and for those he couldn't, there was always the prospect of taking on an assistant.

But as he thought of it, he nearly snarled aloud. He could _live_ , yes, as any ordinary man might.

Such a fate was not fit for him, though.

He could not kill as he was. And even if he could, he could not bear witness to death claiming for its own the body of his victim. He could not observe, and so he could not notate. He could postulate, but he could not act on any theories.

The only experiments that mattered to him were those the Apex Games had enabled by providing arenas filled with willing test subjects, their deaths yearned for by countless mewling masses. He had gotten ample resources for his work, and they had gotten a Legend, the ruthless and terrifying Caustic.

But Caustic was no more.

Nox clenched his fists and descended the slope with more purpose.

Everything he had devoted himself to, all that he had determined and uncovered, every result his work had produced, had been rendered all for naught by an incessantly cackling whelp who was born into wealth and ease and spent his time pandering and groveling to worms in a pathetic para-social dynamic.

The slope flattened out, and Nox reached the metal platforms. By his memory, the racks of light weapons were just to his left, and a stationary DUMMIE just a few meters in front of him.

He stalked forward, every muscle in him tense with indignation and fury. Everything he had lost, all so an obnoxious child could have a bit of meaningless glory.

He swung his fist, connecting perfectly with the DUMMIE's faceless head, sending it staggering. He gripped its shoulder and swung again, low and hard, into its gut, not thinking, moving only on instinct and anger.

It wasn't real. It had no voice. He couldn't even see it, but its body bent and cracked like a human's would. Nox would know.

He drove it to the ground and slammed his fist into it, again and again. At first, each strike was fierce, but focused and controlled. He quickly devolved into wild pummeling.

The sand kicked up, clouding impotently around his gas mask and brushing against the skin of his face. It stung where the Arc Star had struck him. He beat the DUMMIE harder.

The sound of the abuse, and his own grunts and growls, masked the arrival of another Legend until they spoke, standing just behind him.

“It is a hologram, doctor, it cannot feel your rage.”

Nox stopped, breaths heavy, and looked over his shoulder at Bloodhound. “That's the point.” His voice came out hoarse, and he choked back a cough. Bad enough to be caught such as he was without allowing a glimpse at his older, more chronic struggle.

“What do you gain by expending passion on that which is not alive?”

“Catharsis,” he replied, though as he turned his sightless gaze back to the DUMMIE, lying unresponsively with its body as whole as if it hadn't been touched, he knew it was a vain effort. “Or so I had hoped.”

He stood and dusted himself off; for posterity, more than anything, since he was in a simulation. Bloodhound seemed to be standing a couple meters away. Nox knew that, even if he could see, they would most likely be as impassive and unreadable as they were to him now.

“In all honesty, I am surprised to see you here, doctor.”

“Are you such a fool as to expect I would join in that saccharine celebration occupying the others? Marking the end of a season I could not participate in, which in turns marks the end of my time as a Legend?”

“No. I simply didn't think they would let a former Legend on the Dropship.”

Nox grunted. He rarely spoke with the hunter, and this was likely the longest conversation they'd had yet, so he often forgot how scathing and blunt they could be. He supposed it followed that an honor-bound warrior would not suffer scorn or rudeness lightly.

“As I was, however briefly, an active Legend this season, I am not technically out of the Apex Games until the aforementioned celebration is over.”

“Then we yet speak Legend to Legend.”

“I suppose.” A beat passed. Nox reflexively narrowed his eyes as a suspicion entered his mind. “Don't you dare tell me how sorry you are for my condition.”

“I would not pity you for what you have lost in battle. Regrettable, it may perhaps be, but it is no less honorable.”

“Nonsense,” Nox spat. “What good does honor do me? An ideal I care nothing for will not give me back my sight.” Though he was blind, and the lenses of Bloodhound's mask were opaque from without, Nox could sense the hunter glaring at him.

“It could give you some sense of peace, or purpose, in your journey yet to come. You may have lost in one capacity, but you can yet preserve your dignity. _Pride_ is the true victory. Keep it; cherish it.”

“I cherish nothing. I _have_ nothing.”

“You say that, yet three valiant _félagar_ of yours came to your rescue.”

“I did not ask for your assistance.”

“But you had it nonetheless, and your life now as well.”

Nox shook his head, his frustration boiling up again. Bloodhound no better understood his loss than any of the others.

“If you would only–”

Nox swung, a wide right hook that missed. But, he could sense, only barely.

Instinct, or perhaps something more profound, told him to step back. He did, feeling a gust of wind as Bloodhound retaliated, then he surged forward.

He had no sense of what Bloodhound's movements actually were, and barely any sense of where they were in relation to him. But as he attacked, he could feel their movement, almost intuitively. It was like the two were fighting in water, the pulsing ripples they caused washing over Nox, feeding his subconscious with some intangible understanding.

Suddenly, Bloodhound stopped. Nox could hear their boot plant hard on the metal grating below, and held himself back in like. They each faced each other silently for a minute, stock still and breathing hard.

“You held your own quite admirably,” Bloodhound finally said, wonder tinging their voice. When Nox didn't respond, they continued, “I wonder, did some manner of awareness enable that?”

“...you don't know anything.” Nox suppressed the thought that, really, it was he that didn't know, and with it the thought that he was at once terrified and allured by that.

“If you allowed me to help you channel this, perhaps I could–”

“No,” Nox said firmly, and walked past Bloodhound to go exit the simulation.


	6. Trust

“ _Round One. Beginning countdown._ ”

“Oh, already inside the ring,” Mirage said from the southern end of the artillery base. “I smell victory.”

Bloodhound chuckled as they made their own way through the northern building. Mirage's facade of confidence was a better attitude to take in battle than he realized. Striding forward with self-assurance was indeed the path to a victorious end, even if one had to force that assurance.

“Agh, gettin' shot, gotta vanish!”

Bloodhound sighed. That man was more competent than he led even himself to believe, and though his holographic deceptions were not the most honorable, they were still useful, valid tools of battle. If he only trusted himself more, he could–

Bullets peppered the wall beside Bloodhound, and they recoiled and took cover, cursing under their breath. Mirage was, perhaps, too good at distracting others.

Bloodhound peeked around the corner and glimpsed Wraith making her way up the stairs towards them, as well as the Hemlok assault rifle in her hands.

They leaned back into cover to avoid a fresh burst of rounds, but this was actually exactly what they wanted.

They centered themself with a breath, the slight strain of it a reminder never to take victory for granted, and listened. Wraith was light on her feet, but there was no masking her approach from the hunter of the gods.

They whirled about and set her off-balance with a sudden spray of warning shots from their SMG. Before she could recover, Bloodhound pushed forward and gripped her rifle tight, yanking it to the side.

“Wraith! I must speak with you.”

“Hope you don’t think that’ll stop me from killing you.” She disappeared in a flash of pale blue that passed through Bloodhound's body. Just in time, they turned and brought their hunting knife to bear as she unphased behind them. The blade caught her gun and shoved it away again.

“I can handle that. But were he here, Caustic could not.”

“Real shame.” She stepped back quickly, releasing her Hemlok and drawing her own knife, a blue-glowing kunai that she slashed upwards, sending Bloodhound several steps back. “What's your point?”

“You know more about the Void than anyone, correct?” Bloodhound let Wraith's rifle fall and clatter to the landing below, keeping their own weapon trained on her.

“Well, no one else seems to know _anything_ about it, so sure, I guess.” Her phase had put her higher on the stairs then them, but she neither advanced nor retreated, just stood ready, her kunai held in a reverse grip.

“Like you, that place has not _only_ taken from Caustic. I believe he has a... newfound sense. One which you could help him to hone.”

“Why would I do that?”

“He is our brethren, Wraith.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Perhaps, but he still deserves our compassion. You felt as much when you asked Lifeline and myself to help save him.”

“His life was at stake there. He can find his own way now that he's back with the living.” But as she spoke, Bloodhound could sense her uncertainty.

It surprised them, then, when she ducked and lashed out with her boot, knocking Bloodhound into the wall while she vaulted the stairs' railing and dropped to the landing.

Bloodhound secured their Prowler to their back and followed, rolling as they hit the ground and flinging their axe as they came up. Raven's Bite spun through the air with a crimson trail and struck Wraith's newly-recovered rifle. She started as it was flung from her hands, then turned to Bloodhound with an intense glare.

Their knife met her kunai. Her fist met their gut. They grunted, and juked around her to get a moment's worth of space.

“When you gained your powers and lost your memory, what would you have not given for some aid, some guidance?”

“I didn’t have anything _to_ give, Blód,” Wraith snapped.

“If you insist on being uncooperative, I can end this conversation at any time.”

“Heh, real cocky.”

“It is confidence, not arrogance, that channels the will of the Allfather.”

Wraith smirked. Bloodhound tilted their head, recognizing the shift in her stance, the slight crackle around her gauntlet. They leapt forward at the exact moment she phased, spun, and reached out to where they were certain she'd be when she unphased.

Wraith reappeared, and her scarf was firmly in Bloodhound's grip. They pressed their blade against the small of her back.

“Consider it, at least.”

Wraith groaned. “Fine.”

Bloodhound nodded, then struck the back of her head with the knife's hilt.

“Hey, uh, 'Hound?” Mirage's voice came through as they set Wraith's unconscious body gently down and out of the way. “Pal? You're still alive, right? 'Cause I could use a little help here.”

Bloodhound chuckled again. They'd been tuning him out the whole conversation, but it would be dishonorable to continue ignoring their _félagi_.

“Heading your way, Mirage.”


	7. Road to a Plateau

Wraith didn't take long in her decision.

The day after the match, she contacted Blódhundr, and together they tracked down Caustic. It had been a little over a week since the end of the last season, and no one had heard from him since, but some digging revealed his residence to be in a slum district on the edge of Solace City.

Wraith drove. She had let her hair down, and was dressed in a black jacket and simple, grey jeans; she still had her phasing gauntlet strapped to her left arm, but it was the most casual Blódhundr had ever seen her. They, of course, wore the same tan, green, and red gear as ever.

There was little conversation on the way, save for the occasional caw from Blódhundr's raven, Artur, but it was a peaceful, even companionable, silence.

The place they arrived at was a rundown hovel, not terribly unlike the dilapidated structures Kings Canyon was strewn with, except those hadn't been meant to actually house anyone in years.

Blódhundr understood that the hardships of life often precluded a neat or comfortable abode; survival was not usually aesthetically pleasant. But Caustic should have had more than enough earnings as a Legend to afford better housing.

Wraith seemed to be thinking the same thing. She looked at them with a mix of confusion and disdain, sighed, and knocked on the grease-stained door.

The two waited, and after several moments, were met with nothing. Artur flapped up from Blódhundr's arm and settled on the edge of the low roof.

Wraith knocked again, less politely. Blódhundr, though, sensed something; a faint noise, or perhaps a slight rumble in the ground. They noticed, too late, how the walls and ground near the door were not just worn or filthy; they were porous, _eroded_.

“Get back!” they cried, just before two small apertures opened beside the door, and the gas that earned Caustic his namesake billowed out.

Immediately, Wraith phased, leaving only cool sparks in her wake. Blódhundr backstepped just as rapidly, but the venomous green fog still wrapped around them, obscuring their sight and needling their body.

Blódhundr was the Legend most slowly affected by Caustic's gas, thanks to their thick gear and respirator. They were also, likely, the Legend who hated it most. Their mask was not enough to completely keep it out, and as it began to eat through their clothes and claw at their skin, as it crept down through them to ravage their lungs, grating their mouth and throat every inch of the way, Blódhundr was a youth again, scrambling in a dark, frozen maintenance tunnel, reaching desperately for a mask that just might save them from a cloud of vaporized coolant, the same that had already taken so much from them.

They almost didn't move, they were almost lost in the past, trapped in the cloud that sought to devour them, but a shrill raven's cry pierced through, igniting the hunter's instinct, and they leapt back out of the gas.

Wraith appeared next to them, untouched, but visibly peeved. Blódhundr was only slightly worse for wear. Caustic's gas would eat away at most matter, poison the body, lock up nerves, but it worked slowly, banking on its victims being slowed and disoriented, or else trapped.

Artur flew down and landed on Blódhundr's outstretched arm. They stroked their long-time companion's chin lightly, silently thanking him.

“So,” Wraith said as the gas stopped and the apertures closed, “wanna find a window and break in?”

“I am not opposed to it.”

Before they could move, though, the door slid open.

Caustic looked even more haggard than usual. His yellow garb was stained... variously, and frayed as though however it was he treated it to be immune to his gas, he had stopped bothering. His face, where not scarred, was sallow, and his hair looked even oilier than normal.

“What do you want?” he grumbled. Blódhundr realized it was possibly the first time they'd seen him without his gas mask. In spite of everything, it made him look oddly ordinary.

Blódhundr focused and stepped forward. “Do you remember what I proposed at the end of the last season, doctor? How, with help and training, perhaps your new sense could be refined and controlled?”

Caustic stared in their general direction, his expression somewhere between weariness and a sneer.

“Go away,” he said, sounding tired, and the door began to slide close.

A clang sounded out, and the door jammed, stuck on the kunai between it and the frame. Caustic opened the door again, letting the blade fall to the floor.

Wraith lowered her throwing arm, her jaw set hard. “Nuh-uh. You've got a connection to the Void. We came all the way out here to help you with it. You're at least gonna show me how deep that connection goes.”

“Or what?” Caustic jeered.

“Or I'll find a way into your shithole of a house and dig up every nasty secret you've got locked away in there.” Given to anyone else, it would have been a cruel, invasive ultimatum, but every Legend had a sense that what Caustic did outside the arena wasn't so different from what he did inside it. They all just understood it was best to... choose to believe he only busied himself with scum who deserved such a fate, and to never ask about it. Exposure of the reality was not likely to be comfortable for anyone.

Also, the Syndicate had made it clear that Caustic was too popular a Legend, or at least too renowned, and any attempts to dig up potentially tarnishing information would be severely unappreciated.

Caustic grunted. As Blódhundr watched, a faint blue light crackled under his skin, and he hissed, clutching the side of his head. Artur cawed.

Wraith shared a glance with Blódhundr, then walked up to Caustic and spoke in a low voice. Blódhundr couldn't make out the words, or rather, chose not to. Wraith and Caustic may have been the only people in the universe to bear such a connection to that place. Blódhundr was owed no insight into that experience beyond what the two of them were willing to share.

Whatever Wraith said, Caustic mulled it over for only a moment, before kneeling to pick up Wraith's kunai, and handing it back to her. She stepped back, and he closed the door.

Blódhundr tilted their head inquisitively.

“He's gonna come with us,” said Wraith. “I just told him he has to take a shower first.”

The silence throughout the ride away from Caustic's abode was less companionable. The doctor was freshly clean, more or less, though he still wore his hazard gear-style outfit, sans the gas canisters.

“Where are you taking me?” he huffed from the backseat of the car.

“God, you make it sound like we kidnapped you,” Wraith muttered.

“You quite literally blackmailed me–”

“Alright, whatever.” Wraith rolled her eyes. “We're going to a place I went to a lot back when I was first learning how to control my abilities. It's quiet, empty, out of the way, lotta space.”

Caustic didn't respond, and in fact didn't speak again until they stopped at a dusty, rocky plateau about fifteen kilometers south of Solace City. The sun was setting, washing the sky over with a vivid blend of orange and purple, the warm and the cool wafting amongst each other and fusing into a golden horizon.

“You were not exaggerating when you described this place as empty,” remarked Caustic. The plateau was devoid of almost any distinct features, save a few small boulders and squat, large-leafed plants.

Blódhundr smiled wryly and stroked Artur, drinking in the wild, twilit peace of the desolate area. “This would be a good place for many things, and it will more than suffice for training.”

“Hmph.” Caustic crossed his arms. “Fine. What do you intend–” He stopped short as Wraith brought her boot around in a roundhouse kick that he barely dodged.

“Good,” she said, tying her hair back up into its usual bun. “Blód wasn't wrong about your senses.”

Caustic seemed reticent, even conflicted, but eventually he asked, “How? I can't see, I can't discern my environment, I am not so trained in combat that I can fight by sound alone. What is this... instinct that rises up when I need it?”

“It's not something I have, if that's what your wondering.” Wraith rolled her neck and began circling Caustic. “I get... more specific intuition. But you–” she darted forward with an open-palm strike that would have hit his face had he not sidestepped and knocked her hand aside– “you're feeling what I'm doing.”

“I hate it.” Caustic shook his head. “I can't quantify it.”

“Nope, you can't.” Wraith gave a dry grin. “I can't even explain it. But I can understand it, and so can you.”

“Difficult as it may be for you,” Blódhundr said, leaning back against the car, Artur still perched on their arm, “you must embrace the spirit of this, not look for some manner of science binding it together.”

“Hrm,” Caustic scoffed, “spoken like a true barbarian.”

Blódhundr let Artur fly and drew their axe. “Perhaps we should begin by truly testing the limits of your sense.”

Wraith bounced on the balls of her feet, fists ready. “Yeah, I agree.”

Caustic inclined his head towards each of them, then readied his own stance.

Artur circled high above, eyeing them all.

“So be it.”


	8. Clarity and Entropy

“Alright,” Wraith panted, “I think it's time to see how you do with weapons.”

It had been a few days, and in that short time, Caustic had developed immensely. At first, his reactions in combat were purely following an instinct he couldn't understand or connect with. It was just enough to keep him from getting battered, but not enough to win a fight.

Through their training, though, he'd quickly begun to genuinely resonate with his new sense. Wraith had phased with him a few times to help him feel out his connection to the Void, and before long he was almost totally attuned to it.

“It's as though...” he had explained it to Wraith and Blódhundr, “each movement in this reality disrupts that one. By virtue of my experience there, I can feel those disruptions.”

“I believe you can do more than that,” Blód had said. “When we came here, you immediately knew this plateau to be all but barren. It seems that you may be able to sense your environment better than you realize.”

“Yes,” Caustic had mused, “yes, it is vague, but I can indeed intuit my surroundings. I still cannot view them; their exact nature is beyond me, but I can know them enough to navigate.”

After that, Caustic's skill in using his Void-sense had increased exponentially. Wraith could tell he was still frustrated by how non-empirical and emotive his power was, but he was managing well. Better than she had, even, although she had been alone.

Wraith pondered that as she opened the trunk of the car and pulled out her RE-45. Dangling from it was a small charm: a faceless, shining, purple and white helmet. When the Apex officials had come to her asking what they could use as a model or inspiration for their new line of keychain/gun charms, which were at once merchandise for fans and trinkets for the Legends, the only thing she'd had for them was that helmet.

She had only been able to provide a rough sketch and a description, but she was surprised how closely the final product matched her memory. As she gazed at it, she felt almost like she was back in that facility, anxiously following a sleek, white-armored savior who bore her own face.

_What's the matter with you? You didn't even try._

_The sooner you accept who you really are, the better._

_I had to leave my world to find what I was looking for. Now, it's your turn._

“Wraith?”

Blódhundr's voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“I'm fine.” She loaded the pistol with a magazine of rubber bullets. “Let's go.”

“Hm. A remarkable result. I have exceeded even my own expectations.”

Caustic stood over Wraith and Blódhundr, who each groaned in the plateau's dirt, gripping bruises where Caustic had perfectly nailed them.

“God,” Wraith coughed, “am I the only Legend who has any goddamn humility?”

“A bit of a hypocritical observation,” Caustic said, though with a lightness in his voice Wraith wasn't sure she'd ever heard before.

From a couple meters away, Blód coughed, and then laughed. It was a warm, pleasant sound, like caramel, and it spurred laughter in Wraith too.

They laid there, giggling and wincing, until even Caustic let out a small chortle. Even more amazingly, he walked over and helped each of them up.

“Ugh, I think that's enough for today.” Wraith massaged her side, where Caustic had pelted her with his SMG. “Gotta say, doc, you really have gotten good.”

“I was always good,” Caustic said, then paused and added, “But, you two have helped with... reattaining the skill I lost.”

Blód clapped his shoulder. “That loss has become a gift for you. You have something none else can lay claim to.”

“Perhaps.” Caustic's face settled back into its standard, vaguely-displeased, generally unreadable state.

The three packed up their equipment, returned to the car, and set off for Solace City. The dusk sky was similar to how it had been the first evening they'd come out here, only darker, woven of cooler, moodier tones.

Wraith liked this time of day. It was a meeting of natures, day and night blending for just a while, like two disparate paths connecting. She was at ease, and right then, the voices were quiet.

“Do not take this the wrong way, doctor,” said Blódhundr over their shoulder, “but perhaps some of the same devotion you have shown in this training could be spent improving the rest of your state of living?”

Caustic harrumphed. “You refer to the degradation of my housing. It is meant to appear unpleasant, so as to ward off undesired visitors.”

“Caustic, we've seen inside, too,” Wraith said, keeping her eyes on the road. “Every time you open the door, we see enough to know that it's not much better in there.”

He sighed. “Admittedly, I have been... less rigorous in my upkeep, since losing my sight. I am not entirely the cold, uncultured monster so many think of me as. I may be a man of science, but I enjoy a great amount of art. I appreciate refinement. I value order and cleanliness.”

There was a raw edge to Caustic's deep, rough voice. Wraith didn't quite know how to react. She'd known the loss had hit him hard, but evidently it was worse than she realized.

“I get it,” she said quietly. “It's rough, not being able to turn to the things you used to like for comfort anymore. Hell, when I walked out of those labs, I didn't even remember what I used to like.”

“There is more to it than that,” Caustic said. “These excursions have had a... positive effect on me, but other times I find myself unable to channel any feeling besides...”

Whatever it was, he didn't finish, and Wraith didn't feel like pressing him. Neither did Blód, evidently.

So she just watched the road and the darkening Solace skyline, and they drove on in silence.


	9. Hunter and Prey

Candlelight flickered defiantly amidst the murky night, painting a small part of the plateau in what Nox knew would be warm tones.

He knelt amongst the candles, dressed in new gear: grey and black save for the fingerless gloves and the sash wrapped across his torso, both the same yellow as his old outfit. Nox tugged at his slightly raised, circular collar. This overly ceremonious ritual made him uneasy, but it also felt strangely proper to commemorate the moment. Perhaps Bloodhound's influence was more pervasive than he had realized.

The hunter themself approached from behind. “By the grace of Odin,” they intoned, “and by your own strength, you have _sigrað_ your trials, and face now a journey of your own choosing. _Taktu_ this path with your head held high, my _félagi_.” They wrapped a plain, white blindfold across his eyes, covering the dark scars. “You are not bound by earthly vision. The Allfather has gifted you with sight beyond this world. Fear nothing, _einherji_ , and rise, once more as my fellow Legend.”

Caustic rose, and indeed, he felt born anew. He turned and nodded solemnly to Bloodhound. They clasped his shoulder and held something in front of him. He took it, and held a new gas mask.

Donning it, he felt complete again for the first time since he'd lost his vision. Sight or no, Bloodhound was right: his path was clear.

“Doctor Caustic!”

Wattson's exclamation hit him harder than he ever would have expected.

“Indeed,” he responded as he stepped further into the Dropship lounge, careful to keep his tone even. “I have returned to the Apex Games.”

“Hey,” came a rich voice to his left, followed by a thunderous clap on his back. “It's good to have ya back, brudda!”

“I agree!” The second voice was overly cheerful, and robotic. “It is always good to reunite with friends, even mean, harsh, spiteful ones!”

“Path,” chided Wraith, but Caustic shook his head.

“Gibraltar, Pathfinder, it is... agreeable to see you as well.” He walked in and sat down, near as he could sense, in a sofa opposite the one Wattson was in.

“Hey, so, not that I'm not happy to have you back,” said Mirage from somewhere to Caustic's right. “'cause I totally am, but, um, how are you gonna, you know, with the whole bloodsport thing, without your... I mean, you know?” Caustic gave him a flat stare. He had a sense everyone else in the room was doing the same. “Okay, well, I guess, uh, welcome back!” Mirage mumbled something else and receded.

“It genuinely is good to see you again, doctor,” Wattson beamed. “I have missed our discussions and our experiments.”

Caustic hadn't thought on it too much before then, but he had missed them as well. They were a pleasant distraction, and Wattson was someone he had always honestly respected.

“Well,” he coughed, “you can thank Wraith and Bloodhound for my renewed presence. Their aid was... instrumental in restoring me to such a state where I can again be counted among the ranks of Legends.”

“It was nothing,” Wraith deflected, though he heard a blush in her voice, and at the same time faintly sensed something from Wattson.

“Don't mind me 'n D.O.C. over here,” came Lifeline's voice. “We'll just keep on quietly vibin', probably save ya life next time you need it.”

“Yes, thank you, Che,” Caustic conceded. “Your expertise was not unappreciated.” He thought he sensed a friendly wave from Lifeline.

“By the way,” Wraith said, “what's with that band? VOID? Little on the nose.”

Caustic touched the strip of fabric strapped to his right arm, under three metal rings woven into the fabric. On the black strip was sewn 'VOID'.

“Hrm. It is never inadvisable to accurately label and document.”

“Hey, didn't say I don't like it.”

“Yeah,” said Bangalore from her nook, “it's like it's your designation. Marks what kind of soldier you are.”

“I am a _scientist_.”

“Sure, and I cook a mean stir-fry. But end of the day, we both come right back to the place where we've got a weapon in our hands and a tango in our sights.” Caustic felt her move slightly, perhaps leaning back. “Soldier, Legend, whatever you wanna call it, you're one of us. Even if you are a little creepy,” she said with a smirk in her voice.

At that moment, Caustic felt something light, almost electric, something approaching contentment. He was accepted; in spite of his deeds and his demeanor, he was–

“Hey, what's going on in here?”

Caustic's chest tightened at the sound of Octane's voice. The lightness in him withered away as something thicker, darker, boiled up.

“Silva,” he greeted coolly.

“Oh, hey, doc! You're back!” He said it so casually, his tone so upbeat. “Sorry, about, eh, uh, _estropeando tus ojos_. My bad.”

Caustic had to push down the searingly furious thought that it was indeed. “I'm fine,” was all he said aloud. His voice came out strained.

“That's great!” exclaimed Octane. “Just don't use any of my jump pads, since you know, they say you should always look before you leap–”

“Octavio!” Ajay scolded. “What's wrong wit' ya?”

“Aw, come on, _hermana_ , these are the Apex Games. Things like this happen; no point being gloomy about it!” Even without his Void-sense, Caustic could feel Lifeline giving Octane a fierce glare. “Hey, I really am sorry about what happened. It's not like I haven't lost parts of me in accidental explosions.”

“Silva,” Lifeline said flatly, “the explosion that took ya legs came from _ya own grenade_.”

“So Caustic and I have that in common! We both got our bodies messed up by me throwing stuff!” Octane cackled, and though she tried to suppress it, Lifeline gave a little chuckle.

“You're hopeless,” she sighed.

“But he's not totally wrong,” said Wattson. “You really are not alone, Dr. Caustic. Many of us can sympathize with losing a part of yourself.” Caustic heard the sound of insulated rubber being removed, and then metal tapping the table. “My arm still hurts, now and then. It's not even there anymore, but the sense of it lingers. But I'm not the only one who's suffered that way, and there's no sense in suffering alone.”

The sentiment was comforting to Caustic, but it wasn't enough to quell his indignation, his outrage, at Octane having the gall to compare their losses. He wasn't sure if he could keep himself from rebuking the daredevil, when the floor shuddered, the lights changed to a pulsing red, and a voice rang out through the intercom.

“ _Approaching drop zone_.”

Birds chirped, insects buzzed, the ground festered, and Caustic thrived.

“Five kills already,” he heard Wraith mutter over their comms. They'd found themselves in the eastern swamps, and she was keeping watch from a vantage point atop one of the buildings. “Can't believe it.”

Wattson giggled. “You did an exceptional job rehabilitating him.”

“I, uh, thanks, Nat.” Wraith cleared her throat. “Caustic, got your traps in place?”

Caustic let a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he edged around a wooden wall near the swamps' perimeter. “Affirmative. All independent variables have been set. Now to wait, and let the rabbits find the traps.”

“Oh, doctor,” Wattson pleaded, “don't phrase it like that.”

“Apologies.” He focused, searching for any nearby movement, but found nothing. “However, in such a trial as this, we must be wolves, and tear into our prey without hesitation.”

“God, Bloodhound really rubbed off on you, didn't they?” teased Wraith. Wattson gave another gentle laugh.

Caustic couldn't deny he was amused, perhaps because he was in high spirits. The swamps worked well for him, as the waters were never quite still, the fauna never quite relaxed, and every little movement fed him more information about his surroundings through the Void.

He was moving back towards Wraith when he felt it. He froze, the muck pooling around his boots, and attuned to the disturbance in the Void. It was behind him, a smaller body, moving fast, towards a trap.

“A rabbit has arrived,” he whispered into his comm, then turned and crept towards the foe. They were close, very nearly there–

All at once, the crack of a sniper rifle resounded, the water beside Caustic splashed high as the bullet grazed him, Wraith shouted that she'd been ambushed, and the gas trap went off.

“Ah, _carajo_!”

Caustic narrowed his eyes at the voice. Octane had avoided the bulk of the cloud, but some of it had hit him, freezing his nerves and distracting him with pain.

“Caustic, we need you over here!” Wraith hissed. “I think we're caught between two squads, agh, son of a–” Caustic heard gunshots, heavy breathing, the sounds of his squadmates struggling, but he tuned them out and strode into the gas cloud.

He was immune, of course, his clothes and body treated with a chemical compound, one only he knew how to create, that countered NOX gas. And so he moved freely, stalking straight towards Octane, who was now just on the other side of the gas, shaking off its effects.

He didn't try for stealth; he didn't need it. He flipped his Peacekeeper around, gripped its barrel end, and just as Octane registered the sound of Caustic's approaching steps, he swung the handle of the shotgun into the insufferable speedster's face.

Octane staggered, then hopped out of the way as Caustic flipped the shotgun back around and fired it. Energy-actuated shells tore past Octane, but he was too fast. Rage pushing him onward, Caustic fired, and fired again, but Octane dodged each time; he was too preoccupied avoiding the shots, though, to fire back with whatever gun he had.

Caustic didn't care what he was armed with. He fired once more, the shot glancing off of Octane's shoulder, and under his gas mask, his lips twisted into a grin as he heard it connect with flesh. The youth had no Body Shield.

Dashing forward, Caustic dropped his Peacekeeper and grabbed hold of Octane's vest. With a snarl, he whirled Octane around and swung his fist low and hard–

Caustic cried out as he was flung back, accompanied by a sound like shattering glass as his own Body Shield was broken with a single shot from the sniper covering Octane.

“Caustic!” Wraith shouted, “Where the hell are you?”

The doctor rushed over to cover, glaring in the direction the shot had come from. He couldn't sense that far, but his hypothesis was that Lifeline had been behind the rifle.

He felt for Octane's presence, but found nothing. His target had fled.

“Caustic!”

“A moment,” he grunted, trying in vain to shake off his frustration as he pulled out a Shield Cell. “I will be with you shortly.”


	10. Project: Wraith

Repulsor Tower had been destroyed.

It happened in the middle of a match, the event almost killing several Legends. No one knew who sabotaged it, or even how, much less why. But the result was a drastically altered arena, reopened after a short period of reconstruction. The native fauna of Solace, namely Flyers and Leviathans, had returned, new installations had been built, and old areas demolished.

But one particular area made Wraith's breath hitch when she saw it.

Singh Labs.

She couldn't remember who Singh was, not even whether or not the Apex officials had gotten it right in naming the facility after them. But it was the place she'd stumbled out of several years ago, lost and alone after escaping her world's version of the same place.

She'd never thought it would still be intact, or that the Syndicate would go the effort of excavating it and making it part of the arena. Yet, there it was, all but goading her to return.

Except, the first match of the season, she couldn't get near the place, let alone thoroughly explore it, with every other squad bearing down on her. Plus, she decided she didn't want the whole Outlands to be privy to whatever she discovered. She needed discretion, as well as support.

Blódhundr was the first she asked, and as before, the loyal hunter was quick to agree. Then, as before, she went to Ajay, and this time, the medic was more than happy to lend her help.

Wraith went to Natalie last, both because she hoped Blód and Ajay's commitment would help convince her, and because she was scared someone so closely involved in the conception of the Games wouldn't agree to flout the rules.

“Of course I'll help!” Natalie said with a dazzling smile. “You deserve to know who you are, and... I would like to know who that is as well, if you'll let me.”

Hearing that took the wind out of Wraith. She'd gone to Natalie precisely because she wanted Nat to be with her for this. Hearing that enthusiasm made her want to take over the Dropship and fly it straight back to Kings Canyon, but they had to wait for nightfall, and for Ajay's pilot friend.

Wraith had just returned to her bunk from talking to Nat when Octavio popped in and whispered, “Hey, I hear there's a secret mission going down tonight?” Before she could snap at him, he continued, “Don't worry, I just heard from Ajay, and I can keep a secret. She wouldn't have told me if she didn't know I could!”

Wraith huffed. “Fine. Whatever. You in, then?”

“Hell yeah. Sounds awesome.”

She sighed and gave him the details. After he left, she finally laid back and tried to get some rest. Some nagging sense kept her up for a while, but eventually it faded, and she managed to sleep.

Wraith had just left the Dropship when Caustic approached her.

“I would like to join this endeavor.”

“Why?” she asked, earnestly puzzled, though not surprised he'd somehow found out about the plan.

“You aided me once. I am simply returning the favor.”

Wraith studied him. “Can I count on you to stick with us?” She hadn't forgotten how sidetracked he'd been during the matches where they were squadmates. He was a beast in combat, but increasingly easily provoked, and increasingly brutal.

“I can give you only my word. Whether or not you accept it is your decision.”

A choice. Two roads. Wraith wasn't sure if she believed in fate; she wanted to believe people controlled their own futures, so perhaps it was out of spite for predestination that she chose to trust Caustic, and hoped she wouldn't regret it.

The portal was always active, even outside of matches. Night and day, a massive spire of shifting blue energy rose up from a structure in front of the labs' entrance, blooming into a wide circle at the top. Ever since it had gone active, the Apex officials didn't seem to know how to turn it off.

Wraith stood in the open bay doors of the dropship, looking down at the massive blue plume, and she was glad for it. This time, she wouldn't have to free fall while setting her own portal.

She looked over her shoulder at her friends. A few were armed, Blódhundr most prominently with their R-301, modified with the bones and leather from a wild Prowler. None of them were entirely sure what to expect in the depths of the labs, or what kind of response the Syndicate would send if they were discovered.

But every one of them was there to help her, or at least support her, whatever she needed. She teared up, but blinked it away, and nodded to them all. They responded in like, even Caustic, who stood at the back holding a Prowler of the SMG variety.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and jumped, followed by her friends.

The portal deposited them all in a massive room, each wall flanked by terminals, with a single large terminal in the center. Dust and cobwebs covered nearly everything, and various mildews claimed the corners for their own. Dead screens gazed down bleakly from high in the walls, and the floor was littered with worn, dirty tarps and tubes.

No one spoke, not even Octavio. It felt like a crypt. In a way, it was. Whoever Wraith used to be, she'd died here, and this was her tomb. They'd come to exhume her.

The group proceeded carefully, staying together as they left the large chamber through the right of two doors. The corridor beyond was in no better of condition. With their every step, the metal grating below creaked. A low hum resonated all around.

On the right side of the corridor was a thin room, lined with destroyed servers and a flickering terminal. Wraith examined it, but the screen gave nothing, and what wasn't uselessly flashing was long-since scorched beyond repair.

“If only I had time,” Natalie murmured, “I could probably fix most of this. We could find out anything we needed to about your past.”

Wraith shook her head. “Something tells me it's better that most of this stays dead.” They left the room, and were faced with the continuing corridor and a doorway opposite them, both lit only by inconsistent, pale fluorescent lights.

“ _Este lugar es enorme_ ,” Octavio said under his breath, “we should split up, cover more ground.”

“I don't think–”

“I concur,” Caustic interrupted. Wraith stared at him. “It is the most efficient approach to utilize such a large group.”

“Alright!” Octavio only just kept his voice down. “Let's go, doc!” The two started down the corridor, their overlapping steps reverberating.

“Ajay,” Wraith said.

“Don't you worry, I'll keep an eye on them,” the medic promised, and followed after the men.

Wraith tried not to let Natalie and Blódhundr see her worry, and instead just opened the door in front of her. On the other side was a sizable, mostly empty room. The floor was almost flooded with cold, stagnant water, and in the center stood a chair, equipped with restraints for the arms and legs, and an array of needles, prongs, and devices splayed about the headrest.

Wraith's breath grew shallow, and suddenly she couldn't care about how the others saw her. She remembered this; at least, some part of her. Some part that was still raw from the horror of what had happened in that chair.

Natalie came up beside her and touched her shoulder. Wraith's breath returned, and she gave Nat a thankful look. The three stepped in, the water splashing pallidly beneath their boots.

Wraith reached out to the chair, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it. Just on the edge of memory, something flashed through her mind.

“Wretched things were done in this room,” Blódhundr said, half to themself. “It was not wise to restore these labs to the surface. This is a haunted place.”

Wraith agreed. The chair alone was binding her just by being near it, but she had to keep moving.

They crossed the room and left through a door in the opposite wall. A relatively open space lay before them, containing a column embedded with cracked terminals, and a room with its door collapsed, beyond which were more ruined servers, their data as dead as the rest of the place.

And... a pair of closed doors, lit up by dull, crimson emergency lights.

Something about that room beckoned to Wraith. She walked up and tried to enter, but it seemed jammed. She shifted her jaw. She would not be held off, not at this juncture.

For a metal door, the frame was weak and decrepit, and her will and legs were strong. It only took a few hefty kicks to break the entrance down. Within was a dark, desolate room, shadows piled as high as the abandoned junk and cobwebs. Parts of the ceiling had caved in, and every screen present was jet-black.

All except one.

Wraith approached, wary of both danger and the truth. Blód and Nat followed close behind. The terminal was, miraculously, still active, and still powered. She didn't question how. Maybe she'd start to believe in fate.

Some instinct kicked in as she laid her hands on the keyboard. Deep down, she remembered how to navigate these systems. It took only a minute before she'd pulled up the personnel logs.

There were so many names. None of them meant anything to her. She went with the one that filled her with the most trepidation, the most unrecognizable emotion: Blasey, Renee.

She collected herself, took a deep breath, and hit play on the topmost log entry.

“ _Senior Science Pilot Renee Blasey, first report. The grant to test our new phase-shift tech has been approved by the IMC's ARES Division._

_My colleague, Dr. Singh, has his suspicions about them... but honestly, all I care about is whether or not it's true. That our dimension is not the only one._

_Now, we just need some volunteers. Or, I'll have to do this thing myself._

_There are a lot of roads out there... who knows where they lead?_

_Project: Wraith, active._ ”


	11. Between Life and Death

_The distance between life and death is measured by suffering..._

Caustic followed Octane to the end of the corridor, where it split into two passages. One led to the apparent entrance of the labs, and thus outside, and the other to another room.

Lifeline caught up to them and gave Caustic a friendly tap on the arm. Friendly, or cautioning, he wasn't sure. He didn't expend much time deciphering it. His sense was focused on Octane.

The three entered the room. Like the rest of the facility, it resonated with the Void. The energy was practically buzzing throughout him, so much that he could very nearly sense the actual, specific structure of the room. It was dilapidated, barely stable, even more of a wreck than what he'd briefly allowed his home to become. Monitors fizzed here and there, and pipes set in the walls groaned.

“This is a fascinating place,” Caustic observed, caught for a moment in genuine admiration. “If only I could better examine it.”

“Ya want me to describe it?” Lifeline asked sarcastically.

“Not much to see, anyways, _compadre_.” Octane was on the far side of the room, seemingly rummaging through something. “This place is an absolute mess.”

Lifeline sighed. “God, I feel bad for Wraith, ya know? I can't help but feel like there's not much left for this place to give her.” She shivered. “And it's damn unsettlin' too.”

Caustic paused. His sense was so refined here, he was able to feel such a subtle movement as a _shiver_.

“Aw, this ain't as bad as that huge garden maze we got lost in.” Octane was standing at the central terminal now, in front of the fractured window, leaning forward on his palms and rocking back and forth. “Remember, Ajay? What was it, a gala our parents made us go to? And we snuck out and–”

“–and the hosts had the biggest garden either of us've ever seen.” Lifeline finished. “'Course I remember, but that was only scary 'cause we were kids all alone.”

“I dunno,” Octane said with a cheeky grin in his voice, “rosebushes still kinda freak me out.”

Caustic couldn't hold back any longer.

Every second listening to that incessant whelp carrying on so carefree and guiltless tore at Caustic's very soul. It was an affront to have to put up with him, after everything the pathetic child had cost him. He was an insect, insignificant, unworthy to even speak to someone as elevated as Caustic was.

Caustic shook his head. Was that how he felt? It was pure rage filling him, fueling these thoughts. Where had his devotion to science gone? To objectivity and discovery? What would it test to kill Octane? What result could be determined? He had always admired death, always regarded entropy as inevitable and necessary, but he had maintained at least emotional distance, so as to observe and notate, to understand and to learn. He was a man of science, not some savage driven by a petty grudge–

“Hey, _amigo_ , are you okay?”

Caustic started, realizing he'd been kneading his forehead. Octane was right in front of him. His voice rang in Caustic's head, that dry, self-absorbed, cocky voice, an incessant ringing, ever reminding him of what had been taken from him.

He couldn't observe. It didn't matter what distance he kept, his connection to death was a hypothetical to him now. His was not a petty grudge. Perhaps he could start anew, find a new purpose to drive him forward, but his old self had been remorselessly killed when Octane threw those Arc Stars.

He deserved to be avenged.

Caustic lashed out, gripped Octane by the throat, and flung him through the window.

“Octavio!” cried Lifeline, but Caustic kicked her against the wall and left the room. On the other side of the door, he dropped an expanding gas canister to block it from opening. He'd sensed the other door was jammed, leaving Lifeline trapped enough for his needs.

“Caustic, what in the hell are ya doing?” she shouted.

“This is a place of death,” he rumbled. Octane was just recovering when Caustic reached him, pulling the thin, young man up and driving his fist into that infuriating mask, sending Octane sprawling. “A place of... conclusions.” He dropped to one knee, grabbed Octane's head, and slammed it against the floor. “I am embracing death.” He took hold of Octane's jacket and began to drag him towards the exit. “I am bringing about the inevitable.”

His sense kept him alive, warning him to dodge a half-second before Lifeline opened fire with her Alternator, sending a repeating pulse of bullets trailing after him.

He whirled and unhooked the Prowler from his back, shooting a burst of rounds into Lifeline's arm instantly, precisely. “You need not yet succumb to entropy, Che. Stand down. You may yet live, for whatever worth you hold in that.”

She raised her gun again, but he shot it out of her hand. He could feel her despair, her rage, her pain. It radiated through the Void. She began to try to climb out the window, but the glass was jagged, and she only had one arm to use.

Caustic turned and dragged the still-dazed Octane through the first of the two massive entrance doors. He prepared a NOX grenade as it closed behind him. “Wraith is here to discover the ghost of her former self. I am here to lay mine to rest.”

He tossed the fist-sized canister disdainfully. It landed beside Octane's head and began spewing a cloud of NOX gas that quickly filled the chamber.

“Incredible,” Caustic murmured. Within the gas, his sense felt... magnified. He could all but _see_ Octane, so vividly could he perceive every detail about him. He could yet observe death, bear witness to the universe enacting its true nature, relish in its primordial purity. “My vision...” A deep, rumbling laugh boiled up from within him. “My vision is _clear_.”

* * *

_There's a thin line between life and death; you'll find me there..._

Wraith had stumbled forward, leaning heavily on the terminal that had just gone silent, struck by even that sliver of knowledge, when the voices echoed in her head.

_Trouble, hurry._

_You shouldn't have trusted him._

_You have to move!_

Then, she heard the gunshots.

Wraith rushed out, Wattson and Bloodhound at her side, and quickly found the control room at the end of the hall. Lifeline knelt inside, D.O.C. hooked up to her blood-soaked arm, pointing with her good hand at the giant double doors.

“He's gon' kill Octavio!”

Bloodhound tapped the device on their arm and sent out a sonar pulse towards the door. A moment later they gave Wraith a grim nod.

Wraith rushed to the door panel, but it wouldn't respond. Through the windows set into the door, she could see only billowing green gas obscuring all. She pounded on the steel. Caustic would draw it out, but that didn't mean they had long.

She cursed herself for trusting him. She'd known it was a risk, she'd seen how he was growing more and more unstable and unreliable. He hadn't used the training she'd given him to move on from his loss, only as another way to stew in it.

She'd had hope. She'd seen him laugh, and toil earnestly to master his new ability, and bask in the acceptance of the other Legends. She'd genuinely thought that he'd overcome his vicious tendencies.

She took a breath. She'd been wrong. Now, she had to fix this.

“It won't open?” Wattson asked.

“No. Either he locked it from the other side somehow, or it just malfunctioned, or... I don't know, with this place, and his power, it could be both.”

“Can you phase through?” Bloodhound proposed from behind, where they were helping Lifeline out of the control room.

“I don't know how to explain the limits of phasing, but no. Not something solid and physical like that. At least...” She thought back, to the first time she escaped this place, and to what Bloodhound had said when they'd saved Caustic, about phasing deeper. “...maybe. Maybe I can get through.”

“Renee.” Wattson's voice was so soft, so startlingly soothing, and to hear her own name in it almost bowled Wraith over. She turned to meet those clear blue eyes. “I know you can do this.”

“Please,” Lifeline said, standing, but not well. “You've got to.”

Bloodhound nodded. “You've said it before, my _félagi_ : trust just your eyes–”

“–and you'll lose.” Wraith gave a tight smile and nodded back, then turned to the door. She shook out her left arm, took a breath, and clenched her fist, dropping into the Void.

The door was still there, just as impassive, only now entirely rendered in cold blue energy. Wraith touched it, and it was solid. She knitted her brow. She had to push deeper.

The Void flowed and warped around her, her body shook, her ears rang and her vision swam, but then she was there, in another layer of the Void, further beyond her plane of existence.

The door was still there.

It was darker, more watery, but she still couldn't pass through.

She knew what she needed to do. She'd only seen her helmeted self do this, she'd never managed it on her own, but she gripped the device on her arm, calmed her mind, and poured her all into moving into the _true_ Void.

It felt like she'd dropped out of her own body, disconnected from anything tangibly herself. The world around was cast in sheer, inscrutable light, pale blue outlines keeping some elements just discernible.

The door wavered; it was there, still, but if Wraith just shifted herself a bit...

It was open. She ran through, stepping at once in two realities. She felt herself re-solidify, but it wasn't quite herself. On the other side, her gloves were white and mint green, she could feel all kinds of gear strapped to her body, and she was breathing through a filter mask.

Her name was Dr. Renee Blasey, Senior Science Pilot, and she was ready to uncover the secrets of every reality, whoever she had to work with to make that happen.

She unphased, rising through every layer at once, stumbling back into existence and into the middle of Caustic's gas. She couldn't see, she could barely move in it, but the mask made it slightly easier, and she wouldn't be stopped now.

She phased, instantly back in the deepest level, and pushed forward, grasping for any sense of where Octane was in the mess of toxic, acidic air. She shifted, again, and her head felt lighter, her gear disappeared, her sleeves were looser while tight restraints, torn at the ends, were strapped around her torso.

She didn't know who she was, other than someone who'd made a horrible mistake, trusted the wrong people, even her colleague, her partner, who left her to either rot or turn into something he could study.

She scowled. That wasn't a road she'd go down. She'd find herself again, she'd find the people who she could trust again.

She unphased, and she found Octane.

She was standing just above him, over his head. His body was limp, battered, and covered in shallow burns from the gas. Caustic was stooped over him, chest heaving and fists clenched.

Wraith struck hard, thrusting the heel of her boot directly into Caustic's jaw. He staggered back, and she picked up Octane and phased once more.

As she carried him, sprinting up to the exit, to beyond the labs, she fell back into herself one more time. Her suit was tight, sleek, white and black, designed for her, enhancing her movement. She saw through a purple and white helmet, and she ran down the road she knew was hers.

There was no doubt in her, no hesitation, no regret. The past had happened, every painful bit of it. All that was left was to forge a future reality she believed in. She was a ghost brought back to life.

The voices were affirmatively silent.

She passed through the second set of doors and unphased, immediately setting down Octane. Her helmet opened, and she checked for any sign he was stable, or at least alive.

His pulse was still there, he was still breathing, and though he'd taken a serious beating, Wraith sighed with relief that he seemed like he'd be okay. Eventually, at least.

She stood and closed her helmet. “Caustic,” she said quietly, her chest tight, “maybe in another time or space, things worked out.” She turned back to the labs and readied herself. “But not this one.”

* * *

_The place between life and death is where I feel most alive..._

Bloodhound centered themself as Wattson and Lifeline plugged D.O.C. into the door panel. It was a long shot, but theirs was the only idea any of them had.

Meanwhile, Bloodhound prepared for the fight.

They had helped Caustic return to fighting form, helped him hone his connection to the Void. He had been formidable before, and now he was trained by not only two warriors, but two friends.

But perhaps Caustic did not consider them as such. Perhaps it was foolish to indulge the notion that he had given up his rage. Bloodhound would never abandon their belief in people's better nature, but they knew beasts better than anyone.

And so Bloodhound knelt before the great door, drowned the ache in their chest, and prepared _to slátra_ a beast.

“Blód, you ready?” Lifeline asked. The gas had persisted, and they all three knew Bloodhound was the only one who could maintain a fight within it.

“I am.”

“Good luck,” Wattson said, but her voice cracked.

She knew what Bloodhound had to do. They locked eyes with her, and gave a silent assurance. It would be as quick and merciful as they could manage.

“Alright,” Lifeline said, wincing from her still-injured shoulder, but gritting her teeth and adjusting D.O.C.'s position. “Hold on, baby.”

Wattson stepped up, the coils on her back sparking and spinning. She rubbed her hands together, and when they separated, arcs of lightning ran between her fingers. She placed her hands on the little medical drone and released a torrent of electricity.

D.O.C. let out a wild series of beeps, but the electricity surged though it and into the door. The panel fizzed, smoked, sparked, and the doors slid open. Lifeline and Wattson stepped aside quickly.

“I am the hunter the gods have sent,” Bloodhound chanted. “I bathe in the _blóð_ , and place my trust in the Allfather.”

They activated the small device on their forearm.

A roar echoed through their ears as chemical nanotech flooded into their veins, reforging their physiology. Their muscles felt expanded, their sight sharpened into monochrome save for the glow of crimson energy thundering throughout them, and as they looked into the opaque cloud of death, they saw a blood-red figure awaiting them.

Bloodhound lunged, drawing their R-301 rifle and bringing it to bear in a single smooth motion, and they fired just as they entered the gas. Their nerves should have seized up, their vision should have been obscured, they should have been wracked with pain, but the technological blessing of the Allfather thwarted every advantage their enemy could have had.

Caustic needed no extra advantage, though, managing to dodge their bullets and drop a gas trap canister to give himself quick cover for a moment. Bloodhound surged around it, only to leap aside as Caustic fired off his Prowler.

A few steps, and Bloodhound closed the distance again, giving no ground until Caustic took hold of their weapon and ripped it from their hands, kicking them back as he did.

Bloodhound stumbled but didn't falter. They drew their hunting knife and threw it straight at Caustic's hand. The blade cut through air and skin, sending Bloodhound's rifle clattering to the ground and drawing a cry from Caustic.

But that still left his own gun, which he leveled at the hunter–

Another knife soared and sliced through his hand, from the opposite direction. Through the gas, Bloodhound saw Wraith, clad in some sort of armor.

They didn't ponder it. They rolled, picked up the fallen kunai, and flung it back to Wraith. She caught it perfectly, and as Bloodhound stood with Raven's Bite drawn, the two prepared to close in on their foe.

Caustic was breathing heavily, not facing either of them. A slight glow radiated from behind his blindfold, and tiny cracks of energy shot through the deathly clouds.

“Come on, then,” he grunted, just audibly.

Wraith rushed first, low and swift, bringing her dagger up in a fierce arc that forced Caustic back. Bloodhound pressed from the other side, swinging their axe around in a cleave that nearly ended the fight there.

Caustic was ready. He slipped out of their joint attack and slugged Bloodhound in their center, knocking the wind out of them. Their nanotech infusion helped them recover in seconds, but while they were down, Wraith had to renew her assault.

She slashed, ducked, jabbed, all faster than Bloodhound had ever seen her move, and almost faster than Caustic could keep up with.

They stood, but their vision wavered. They didn't have long left in their enhanced state. Through the two helmets, across the cloud, Bloodhound managed to meet Wraith's eyes, and she understood.

Wraith flashed away, phasing through Caustic. He turned, more than familiar with the trick, but as Bloodhound watched, the blue trail didn't pass fully through him; it compacted, and leapt high, back the way it came.

Wraith unphased in mid-air, body hunched, and sent her kunai flying, straight into Caustic's back. He howled in anger and pain.

From several meters away, on the other side of him, Bloodhound brought their arm back, then threw Raven's Bite as hard as they could.

The entrance chamber echoed with the sound of a dark, glowing blade sinking deep into a man's chest.

Caustic collapsed to his knees. The gas cloud, finally beginning to dissipate, wafted around him. Blood drizzled down the front of his clothes and dripped to the floor.

Bloodhound's altered state ended, and with a heady, briefly disorienting rush, their vision and physicality returned to normal.

They moved forward and, alongside Wraith, took hold of Caustic, easing him down to the floor. Wraith flickered, and briefly vanished outright, then reappeared as her ordinary self.

Caustic coughed vigorously, shaking in Bloodhound's arms. Wraith took off his mask, revealing blood spattered around his mouth. Bloodhound removed the blindfold, uncovering a blue and green glow in his eyes.

“A deterministic end,” Caustic groaned. “Heh. Fitting.” He coughed again, then looked up at Wraith. “Send me back in, Wraith. Let my death be in the Void.”

Wraith nodded. “My name... my name is Renee.”

Caustic smiled. “Alexander,” he wheezed. He looked to Bloodhound. “Tell me... was there honor in this death?”

“No.” Bloodhound shook their head sadly. “Honor lies in the valiant hunt, and in the _sending off_ of a cherished life, but not in the ending of one.”

“I told you–” he coughed– “I cherish nothing.”

“You also told me you care nothing for honor.”

“Perhaps,” Alexander said, his voice almost gone, “there is more to this world than what can be quantified.”

He nodded to Wraith. She swallowed, and her eyes glowed. The three phased into the Void together.

Alexander closed his eyes. Bloodhound pulled the kunai from his back, and the axe from his chest, and Wraith laid him fully down. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Like a ripple in water, though, Bloodhound felt the words.

_Tell her I'm sorry._

When Renee and Blódhundr unphased, Ajay was already outside, tending to Octavio. Natalie was with her, but rushed in as soon as she saw the two reappear.

Renee stood, shakily, and Natalie met her with a tight, but gentle, embrace.

Blódhundr walked outside, knelt beside Ajay to ensure Octavio would be alright, then continued on, curving around and up the hillside the labs' entrance was built into.

Atop the hill, they sat down, laying their bloodied axe beside them. Slowly, they removed their respirator, their goggles, and each piece of their helm. They leaned back, and took ragged breaths directly from the air.

The moon gleamed down on Kings Canyon softly, sorrowfully. Insects buzzed along grassy knolls, a pulsing spire of energy rose monolithic as the rock walls across the island, and a hunter sat perfectly still amongst vibrant foliage, just breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> So, bringing this fic-inspired-by-fanart around full circle, for the #31DaysOfApex event on Twitter, this absolutely incredible person made a *stunning* piece of fanart depicting the last moment from Caustic's PoV: https://twitter.com/meemiyeeni/status/1281714456188334082. I am legitimately floored, and beyond honored, to see such a phenomenal piece of creative work inspired by my own work.


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